Love Doesn't Exist
by riboflavinB2
Summary: Harry didn't realize Voldemort had created one, last Horcrux. That last Horcrux was Felicity Tylers. Now Voldemort must go to any lengths to keep her safe, and to keep himself alive. But she just may be the death of him. TRxOC. Set after books.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Alrighty peeps, welcome to my new fanfic _Love Doesn't Exist. _You will notice that I have made this a Tom Riddle (because he's freaking awesome) and OC fic. You will also notice that this fanfic is after the books end. So how does Tom Riddle come back? You will have to see. I know there is no mention of Tom in this chapter. He does come in... hopefully very soon, if I decide to continue this story. Speaking of which, I need your help for something. I will not continue this story unless I get enough people to say they want me to continue. So if I don't get three people to review and say continue...I won't continue. Thanks for reading everybody!**

**Disclaimer: ME NO OWNEY THE HARRY POTTER!**

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><p>Love Doesn't Exist<p>

Chapter One

"_The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well."_

However, Harry didn't know that Voldemort was stirring yet again. Harry was no longer a Horcrux; he had lost the connection between Voldemort and himself. He had no way of knowing that on that fateful night nineteen years ago, Harry didn't destroy Voldemort, that the Dark Lord's killing of Snape created one last Horcrux.

Voldemort realized Harry would destroy all of his Horcruxes…he had practically allowed him to. He knew that if he wanted to live forever, he would have to create another Horcrux, conceal it without anyone's knowledge, and allow Harry Potter to "defeat" him. Then, he simply had to bide his time until he could return to power again, and _this _time he would not fail.

However, something went horribly awry as he watched Nagini bite into Severus Snape's pale flesh. His soul was severely unstable. The same instability that caused Voldemort's unknown Horcrux in Harry, caused his final Horcrux to incorrectly bind with the object he desired. His intention to store a part of his soul into the Elder Wand failed. An inexplicable event occurred. Voldemort had no way of knowing that his soul had latched onto another human being – a four-year-old girl by the name of Felicity Tylers, who was presently being dared to enter the Shrieking Shack by her older brother.

Jack Tylers and his younger sister had snuck off into the woods outside their house in Hogsmeade Village. Their mother and father had told them to stay inside – to not leave the confines of their home. Of course, the siblings were too young to understand a war was ensuing around them and that their parents had left for the battle. They had no idea they and their parents were in danger, had no idea that one of their parents wouldn't be coming home, had no idea that they would never see their mother again except for the dark wood of her coffin.

Jack, seven, was running the forest with his sister tailing behind him, trying her best to keep up with him. Her blond curls were tangled with twigs and leaves from the forest around her. She was increasingly falling behind her brother. "Jackie! Wait for me!" She called out to him, desperation apparent in her voice.

"No, Lissy, you have to catch me first!" Jack was laughing wildly as he sped up, forcing Felicity to do the same.

Suddenly, Jack slowed down and Felicity caught up quickly. Her eyes widened as she realized where they were standing. Right in front of the Shrieking Shack, the most haunted place in Britain. Felicity gave a little gasp before her brother started towards the decrepit house. "NO! Jackie! Mama and Papa told us never to go near here! We should leave!"

"Well, Mama and Papa also told us to stay inside our house and we didn't listen to them then. What could happen, Lissy?" Felicity gave no answer, but crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip, pouting. "Come on, I dare you to go in with me." Felicity didn't move. "You're such a little baby. You can't even handle a house! How will you ever get into Hogwarts?" That did it. It was Felicity's dream to go to Hogwarts, and she absolutely hated being told she was a baby. She would prove herself an excellent witch. She would prove her brother wrong.

Felicity uncrossed her arms and began walking towards the shack, her brother following her. As she inched towards it, she had the worse feeling that something bad was going to happen, but she trudged on anyway. She walked closer and closer until she and her brother were near a window on the first floor. Felicity furrowed her brow; she had heard something inside the house. She was starting to feel scared. What if the house really was haunted?

What she heard in the house was not English. No, it was some language Felicity had never heard before. But her father and mother had often spoken things Felicity didn't understand. She recognized the language to be some sort of spell. There was a scream, a low, throaty scream, and then nothing. No noise at all. Felicity looked to her brother. He was wearing a very scared expression, similar to Felicity's own.

Suddenly, a blue light orb flew from the window. It was strange, and quite unlike anything Felicity had seen before. The orb stopped in front of the siblings. It grew and abruptly flashed a bright light, which both Felicity and Jack had to close their eyes for. Felicity then felt something cold wash over her body and seep into her heart. She felt different, as if she was no longer the same Felicity Tylers. The light seemed to go away and Felicity opened her eyes once more.

Someone was at the window. A man with blood red eyes and slits for nostrils glowered at the two children. Felicity suddenly felt more afraid than she ever had before. Her little heart thumped in her chest like a hummingbird's. She had an ice-cold feeling all over her body. The man in the window looked Jack over, then Felicity. As he was staring at her, his red eyes caught her warm amber ones. She felt herself falling away into a black abyss…

Then, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

She woke up a day later. She didn't understand what happened. She guessed she had fainted; the man's eyes held so many emotions Felicity couldn't handle it. Felicity and her brother agreed never to talk about that night. They went on with their lives, pretending it never happened.

When their father came home, without their mother, he explained the war to them. Explained how Voldemort was defeated by a boy named Harry Potter, explained his duty to fight alongside Harry Potter, explained how their mother would never return to them. Felicity didn't grasp any of it, but her father and brother were sad so she decided she would be too.

Life went on. By the time Felicity had entered Hogwarts, she'd almost forgotten about the man with the red eyes that scared her so.

Felicity spent her years at Hogwarts studying. She never stopped studying. She passed all of her O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. examinations with flying colors. She went on to become an Auror; she even worked alongside her idol, Harry Potter. She was driven, determined to prove herself. Felicity wanted to make a name for herself in the world. Her life was perfect, in her opinion. She was on the road to success and no one could stop her.

But she was a fool to think her good fortune would last forever. Felicity soon felt the eyes from that night outside the Shrieking Shack haunting her every move. They were constantly in the back of her mind, making her feel emotions she had forgotten long ago. Felicity knew something was wrong with her. She was scared. She feared the red-eyed man would come back soon. She was right.

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><p><strong>AN: So what did you think? Good? Bad? Awful? Never write again you should just go crawl in a hole and live out the rest of your miserable life there? or was it just okay? Do you wish me to continue? Then please clickey that button below and say CONTINUE PLEASE. Thanks everyone! Hope you enjoyed!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay everyone! I got three reviews so I shall continue... for now. I will need constant support for this little guy (I mean the story, of course) so he will flourish into the novella he wants to become (Oh yes, you heard me. novella. fun word). Still no Tommy in this chapter but I promise he's coming. Voldemort can't stay old forever, can he? I did the math and he's like ninety in this story. Ugh. He's practically _ancient_! So here's chapter two. Enjoy (or try to. this chapter is kind of a downer - just giving you a heads up.). And if it isn't too much to ask for can you leave a review for me? Constructive criticism welcome as well as those reviewers who simply say, 'dude, i like read your story.' Anyways... onward with the totally generic disclaimer!**

**Disclaimer: You dare insult J.K.R. by saying I could come up with such a complex plot as her? (p.s. I do find Harry Potter to be the most complex series ever. I mean, who could think of Horcruxes and the Deathly Hallows and all that jazz? JKR truly is a creative genius, you know.)**

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><p>Love Doesn't Exist<p>

Chapter Two

A twenty-three-year-old Felicity was sitting on her couch, absentmindedly biting her thumbnail while reading _The Daily Prophet. _If she didn't hear some sort of news soon, she go insane from waiting. She began to tap her feet and momentarily listened to the click-clack of her heels against the wooden floor. Her anxiety soon took over. Felicity flung the newspaper to the cushion behind her and buried her face in her hands. _He has to be alright. He has to. He just has to be okay…_ she kept repeating to herself, so many times that the very words started to sound strange to her.

"Felicity!" She drew in a sharp intake of breath. She wasn't expecting a head to pop into her fireplace. However, soon realizing this would be the news she was asking for, Felicity jumped from her comfortable position on the couch and scurried over to her fireplace. She was utterly surprised to find whose head was sticking out of the fire.

"Mr. Potter, sir!" She crouched down to the fire, running a hand through her blond curls. She couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious around her boss, especially when the man was the famous Harry Potter.

"I've told you a million times to call me Harry, Felicity. I've known you for six years. You were my _protégé, _for Merlin's sake." Felicity furrowed her brow. This was Harry Potter; she thought she ought to show him some respect.

"But…Mr. Potter, sir…" Harry groaned, knowing he wasn't getting anywhere.

"Never mind about that just now! But Felicity…" Harry paused, discovering the next words particularly difficult to spit out, "We found him…" Felicity was too excited. She'd spent the last week in agony waiting for this news. She was so happy she could almost kiss Harry, but then she knew Mrs. Potter wouldn't be too thrilled with her. But Harry broke her from her reverie. She knew the Head of the Auror Department's tone was far too sympathetic. It just didn't add up. Wouldn't he be happy? Something was wrong.

"What's wrong? He's okay, isn't he?" The panic was now apparent in her voice. Harry just sighed.

"You'd better come down the office as soon as possible. This isn't something that should be said through a fireplace." These words were not at all reassuring and only succeeding in making Felicity's heart drop to the floor. She bit her bottom lip, hoping against hope that this was just a dream.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. I'll be there in a few minutes." Felicity said, flames dancing in her eyes.

"See you soon." With that, Harry's head was gone. Miss Tylers moved as swiftly as she could. In one quick motion, she was standing up straight and allowed her fingers to drift over her wand. And in a flash, Felicity was no longer standing in her house.

Though it was typically preferred that Ministry workers walk to the restroom, Felicity figured the rules might be broken just this once. She apparated directly into the line waiting for the next bathroom stall to become available.

"Hello Felicity! I thought you had finished working for the day. I saw you leaving earlier." Felicity gave the woman a faint smile, but did not make any attempt for conversation. No matter how agreeable the other woman was, she was in no mood to talk to Susan Bones right now. Felicity shoved through the long line of Ministry workers and entered the nearest stall. She heard a couple of people grumble at her abrupt actions but pushed through them the hardest. She had a perfectly good reason to be so rude.

Felicity quickly flushed herself down and was soon running through the Ministry of Magic's Atrium. Apparently, _no one _understood that Felicity needed to hurry because the people around her were all as slow as molasses. She shoved past her coworkers and dove into the elevator before the doors had a chance to shut on her.

For the first time since her conversation with Harry Potter, Felicity Tylers was motionless. Her heart was still pounding and she sensed something stir in the back of her mind. The eyes. Red and gleaming with evil. Could the person behind those eyes be the reason she was here? She felt her mind drift away. The anger came. She clenched her fist and pressed her lips hard together so she wouldn't scream with rage. Whenever she thought of the eyes, she always became so angry. Felicity couldn't explain it to anyone, for she couldn't make any sense of it herself.

She very nearly pulled out her wand and sent a curse out to the nearest person, but instead a monotone voice entered her mind, notifying her that she had reached her destination. Felicity flew from the elevator and entered the Auror Department. She ran right past her desk to Mr. Potter's office. Swinging the door open as rashly as possible, Felicity screamed, "Where is he? Where's my brother?"

Harry didn't seem at all surprised to see Felicity act this way. She was fiercely protective of her family and he expected this, if not more. In a perfectly composed voice, Harry Potter replied, "Felicity, you have to calm down. I'll take you to see Jack when you've calmed down." Harry's green eyes, somewhat covered by his circular glasses, seemed to pacify her a bit. Felicity screwed up her oval face and used a hand to rub out all the anger.

"I'm sorry, sir. Please, take me to him." Mr. Potter nodded a bit too sadly for Felicity's liking, walked right past her, and out his office door.

Felicity followed him to room usually left for detainees when the Aurors recently made an arrest. She knew there were only three things in the room. Two chairs and a steel table. Her heart stopped as she saw the body lying on the table. "Jackie…" she whispered, though she knew he wouldn't answer her. She knew he was dead.

He looked dreadful. His short blond hair was unkempt and matted with blood. His handsome, angular face was hardly even recognizable it was so bruised and cut. Felicity couldn't breathe. She almost broke down into tears. She inched towards her brother's body, feeling so hopelessly lost. She reached her right hand out and grabbed his mangled left one. "Jack…" Felicity allowed herself a moment of grief. One tear rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away and let her heart grow rigid. No emotions would shine through. She was a stonewall. Felicity turned back to her boss.

"What happened, Mr. Potter, do you know?" Felicity questioned, her voice steady.

Harry shook his head. "From all we can tell, he was tortured – for information, most likely – until someone finally sent the Killing Curse his way." Felicity nodded slowly. Who could possible want to torture her brother for information? He didn't have a special job; he wasn't an Unspeakable or anything like that. He was just a scout for the Hollyhead Harpies…nothing dangerous.

"Who found his…body?" She almost didn't want to say it. Because saying the word 'body' meant he was just that, a body. There was no life in him. He was really dead, gone.

"Ron Weasely found him in the Shrieking Shack like that." He pointed to Jack's lifeless corpse. "He had only been dead a couple of hours." Suddenly, Felicity wasn't listening anymore. Did Mr. Potter just say Shrieking Shack?

"I'm s-sorry, Mr. Potter, sir, you said the Shrieking Shack?" A very bad feeling was washing over Felicity. Shrieking Shack? That was too much of a coincidence.

"Yes, the Shrieking Shack. I was just wondering, Felicity, there wouldn't be anyone you could think of that would do this to Jack, is there?" _Yes_, she wanted to scream out, _but that's impossible!_

"No, not that I can think of." Harry nodded curtly as Felicity turned back to her brother's carcass. She felt a hand rest on her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Felicity. I just wanted to let you know the Ministry has taken care of a funeral for you. We'll do everything for you. I'd do no less for a friend." His tone was compassionate and empathetic. Felicity knew he had also lost many people to Death's cruel touch. She turned to face him once more and gave a reassuring grin.

"Thank you… Harry."

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><p>The funeral service for Jack Tylers was fairly short. A few words were said about his extraordinary ability to pick great players for Quidditch by his friends and then it came time for Felicity to speak. "My brother wasn't an exceedingly bright person. He didn't have much brains, nor brawn, nor diligence. But when he walked into a room you would always be able to tell Jack Tylers was there. He had an uncanny ability to cheer up anyone. I never laughed more than I did when I was with him. He was a great man, loyal, loving. He gave everything he had in life. And he continues to give everything in death. When you remember Jack Tylers I hope you will remember his kind words, his motivating speeches, his humorous personality. But most of all, I hope you will remember that he died as he lived, always daring, refusing to give in. I hope you will all remember my brother. Goodbye Jackie…" Felicity lifted Jack's favorite broomstick up onto her brother's coffin. Although Felicity said she always laughed with Jackie around, she didn't laugh today. She continued with her emotionless tone of voice. Her heart was frigid. There would be no tears. She had to stay strong for her father.<p>

Mr. Tylers stood next to his daughter. He wasn't nearly as composed as her. He was a broken man, a shadow of a man. He had lost so much. First, his darling wife. And now, his favorite child. Tears streamed down his face though no one could tell. He had his hands safely covering his eyes. After Jack's coffin was lowered into the ground, Felicity came to her father and put one arm around his broad shoulders.

"Papa…it'll be okay. I'll take care of you now. I promise. Jackie wouldn't have wanted you to feel so brokenhearted over him. Come on, let's go home." Felicity tried to pull him away from his son's gave by shoving his shoulder lightly, but he didn't budge. "Papa?" Mr. Tylers gave no reply. He shrugged off Felicity's arm, sank into the ground, and stared blankly at Jack's gravestone. "Alright, Papa, you can come to my house when you're ready. I'll be waiting for you there." Felicity turned away from him, received others' final condolences, and quickly apparated to her home.

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><p>Immediately, she could tell something was off. She had apparated to her bedroom and sensed another presence in the room. She began to drawn her wand from underneath her all-black robes and searched around the room for any sign of life. "Back from the funeral already? You must not have been <em>too<em> sad." Felicity froze. The voice was so high, yet so cold, that it rendered her immobile. She wondered if the man – the voice definitely belonged to a man – had cast some sort of Body-Binding Curse on her. He walked out of the shadows of her bedroom and into the moonlight.

The first thing Felicity noticed was the eyes. Red. Blood red eyes. That could only mean one thing. "V-Voldemort." The less-than-human creature grinned deliciously. Felicity was suddenly more afraid than she had ever been in her entire life. She was even more scared than Voldemort's first meeting with her. Before, she had Jackie…now, there was absolutely no one near. No one to hear her scream. Her father probably wouldn't be home for hours. Nobody would find her body for a while. The thought terrified her so much she went numb.

"You know me even though we haven't seen each other for nineteen years? I'm impressed." Felicity tried to pull out her wand, but she was still stuck to the floor, unable to move. "I wouldn't try any spells, girl. I have you immobilized. Wouldn't want you apparating away, would we?" _Yes... or I would, at least. _

"You're supposed to be dead. Harry Potter killed you!" Felicity spat out. Her fear of Voldemort swiftly sputtered out, and all that was left was cold and hard rage for the creature that destroyed so many innocent lives, including her own.

"Silly girl, did you really think I'd allow a seventeen-year-old _boy_ kill Lord Voldemort?" He chuckled, as if the thought of it was hilarious. "No, I simply faked my death. I'm sure you've heard of Horcruxes?"

"Of course I have! It's now required seventh years learn of them in Hogwarts." Voldemort grinned, evilly. If anything, he seemed pleased to hear it. "But what does that have to do with me?" Her stomach dropped. As soon as the word formed on her lips, she knew _exactly _what that had to do with her. She whispered slowly, before Voldemort had the chance to answer. "You made me your last Horcrux…" Voldemort closed the distance between the two. She was forced to watch as he bent down to her ear and spoke so softly no one but Felicity and himself would've been able to hear the words.

"I must confess the effect was quite unintentional. That's why I had to track both your brother _and _you down. I hoped your brother would have the part of my soul – for obvious reasons – so I found him first. One _word_ with him and I knew _you_ were the Horcrux. My soul wouldn't latch itself onto that fool." Felicity clenched her teeth. She would've cursed him right there if she could move her arm. How dare he insult her brother right after his funeral? Then the thought occurred to her. How could she have been so stupid?

"_You killed my brother? It was you! You will pay for what you've…" _Felicity yelled at Voldemort, the anger spilling into her heart like a dam that had just broken. She was stopped, however, by Voldemort's cold voice.

"I didn't kill your brother. He killed himself. He didn't answer my questions about you even after I gave him a little _incentive, _but he still didn't divulge your whereabouts. I grew tired of the torture and ended his misery. If he had answered my questions, he might still be alive." Felicity half-snorted, half-laughed. Voldemort glared at her with red eyes, but his voice remained completely calm. "You dare question my mercy?"

"I know you aren't merciful. If you were _merciful_, I'd be dead already. I wouldn't have to listen to you ramble on about all your incredible power and might." Lord Voldemort laughed.

"Dear Felicity, you know I can't kill you. That would kill _me. _And I must live forever."

"So what are you going to do with me?" Felicity questioned, her voiced laced with poison.

"What do you think I'm going to do with you?" The game was starting to annoy her. If only she could move! He'd have been unconscious on the floor already!

"I can only guess that I won't see my friends for a while, if I ever see them again." Voldemort laughed quietly.

"You're a smart girl. I'm glad you have some wit or this wouldn't be nearly as interesting. Now, take my hand. We're apparating to a new location." As if she would actually take it, Voldemort held out his long hand and Felicity felt the Body-Bind Curse lift from her tense body. Felicity was half-tempted to draw her wand and shoot a curse at the snake-like man in front of her. Unfortunately, however, he had his wand pointed directly at her. No, Voldemort didn't really expect Felicity to escape. He was testing her. To see if she would actually take his hand willingly. She didn't move a muscle.

"Even if I come with you, that doesn't mean I'll go quietly." Her fingers were quivering with icy anger.

"You will come. As we speak, one of my Death Eaters is watching your father mourn your wretched brother's life. Any trouble with you at all, my dear Felicity, and I will give command to kill your precious father." That shut Felicity up. She wouldn't bring her father into this. Voldemort could sense Felicity's resolve had weakened somewhat and extended a pasty, flaky white hand to the blond witch's shoulder. She shuddered at his frigid grip and allowed her face to show her abhorrence.

"Does my appearance disgust you?" Voldemort asked. Felicity suddenly felt like the Dark Lord _wished _his complexion to be so horrible. She kept her eyes on the wall in front of her.

"It isn't your appearance that disgusts me. It is your actions." Voldemort snarled before Felicity could feel herself apparating.

When Felicity reopened her eyes, she was standing in a large foyer with a grand Victorian appeal to it. "Welcome to Albania, Miss Tylers, your new home." Felicity swallowed difficultly as she felt Voldemort's breath on her ear.

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><p><strong>AN: There you have it! The second chapter! So how was it? I hope you likey...I certainly did. It was so much fun writing the banter between Voldy and Lissy. hehe.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Finally! TOM RIDDLE! You'll see what I mean. Well, here's the next chapter. The little men that run my brain had to work overtime for this chapter. You wouldn't believe how much summer reading I pushed out of the way to write this chapter. Anyway... Enjoy and feedback - even negative - is much appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: Ok, think about what your saying here. You're suggesting that _I _actually _wrote Harry Potter? _Now, do I really have to say I didn't write it? I do? Fine, I didn't write Harry Potter. Tom Riddle doesn't belong to me... Oh, and neither does Pinocchio. **

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><p>Love Doesn't Exist<p>

Chapter Three

Felicity roughly pulled her shoulder away from Voldemort's hands. "Never touch me again." She ordered with as much poison as she could muster.

"That will hardly be a problem. Now, I have some matters to attend to, so your new personal servant will show you to your bedroom." Lord Voldemort opened his mouth to say something more, but Felicity interrupted him.

"What? I'm not being locked away in the dungeon?" She retorted sarcastically.

"Well, I figured since you were going to spend the rest of your miserable days in this house you'd want to be comfortable, but if you would prefer the dungeon…" His eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Honestly, I would _prefer_ going home." Voldemort smirked.

"That certainly isn't going to happen. I will not have another repeat of what occurred nineteen years ago. I will not allow any harm to come to my final Horcrux." That statement bothered Felicity. She wasn't human to him, just an object that withheld part of his soul (she shuddered at the thought). She was useful to him because she was a Horcrux. Not that she expected any different from her mentor's greatest enemy. "If you're quite done with your snide comments, I have something to do." He paused, waiting for one of Felicity's 'snide comments,' and when it did not come, he continued, "Good. Taffy!"

With a _pop,_ a little house-elf dressed in a torn tablecloth appeared in front of Lord Voldemort. She had giant ears, a long Pinocchio nose, and humongous brown eyes. "You c-c-called, Master?" She sounded as scared as Felicity felt.

"Yes, Taffy." Felicity suddenly thought the idea of Lord Voldemort saying the word 'taffy' comical, and laughed lightly. Voldemort shot her a death glare and continued speaking, "This is Felicity Tylers. She will be living here from now on. You will obey any order she gives you as long as it does not conflict with my own instructions. Do you understand?" Taffy nodded weakly. "Good. Now leave me." Taffy and Felicity turned to exit the grand foyer, but were stopped by Voldemort's cold voice. "Ah, Miss Tylers, I almost forgot." He grinned maliciously. "Hand over your wand." The sickly-looking man held out his left hand, ready to receive her wand.

The blond woman slowly rotated to face Voldemort. She pulled out her wand from the inside of her black robes and lingered there momentarily. There was no point in trying to disobey Lord Voldemort. He would hunt down everyone she ever loved and kill them right before her eyes if she didn't do what she was told. She glanced down at the wand she had bought so many years ago. Eleven and a half inches, Unicorn tail hair core, cherry wood. She would be sorry to see it leave her side. Felicity quickly handed him the stick, and felt bare and exposed without it. The wand in hand, Voldemort smirked before stalking off to the nearest door.

Felicity was left there, staring after him, beseeching her wand to miraculously come back to her. She went into some sort of trance and only woke when Taffy spoke, "M-mistress? Taffy is to show you to your room now. Master's orders."

"Did he already have it set up for someone?" The thought had just occurred to Felicity.

"Oh yes, Mistress. He's had it prepared since Taffy began working for him." Taffy had a somewhat more relaxed tone ever since 'her Master' had left the room.

"And how long ago was that?" She questioned curiously.

"Taffy were born into his service, Taffy were. Mother works for Master before Taffy does. She told Taffy often about the guest that was coming to live here in the future. Master always ordered to have that room ready." Felicity had noticed, like most other house-elves, that Taffy's grammar was somewhat…_less refined_ than a human's would usually be. However, she did appear to have some sense of the subject. Felicity had personally heard some elves' grammar that was so atrocious she could hardly stand being in the same room with them. "M-mistress?" Taffy seemed nervous once more, and wrung her hands about the tablecloth-dress. "Taffy just were wondering… Is Mistress and Master… is they be married?" The idea was so farfetched that Felicity didn't grasp it for a moment. Then, she quickly burst out laughing. Taffy looked confused.

"Whatever would give you _that _impression, Taffy? Was it his loving looks towards me? Or perhaps it was his charming demeanor?" Felicity soon realized her sarcasm was completely lost on Taffy. She suddenly felt bad for the ignorant creature and immediately rectified the situation. "No, Taffy. Lord Voldemort and I are not going to be married. Now, please, would you show me to my room? I've gotten very tired with all the funerals and kidnappings of the day." Taffy's facial expression once again showed confusion. Felicity would have to remember that Taffy didn't take too well to sarcasm in the future. As perplexed as the little house-elf was, she knew she had been given an order and decided to carry on with it. She gestured to the open hallway to the left and led Felicity throughout the Victorian-styled house.

The house was almost Gothic-looking in appearance with high, curved ceilings and little to no light shining through. The house made full use of flying buttresses, ribbed vaults, and pointed arches; all of which are the fundamental features of Gothic architecture, Felicity knew. Felicity had to admit she was impressed. The house was less of a 'house' and more of a mansion. It was dark and depressing, but Felicity expected no less of Lord Voldemort. Despite its apparent melancholic feel, Felicity quite liked the beautiful mansion.

Taffy brought Felicity up the grand staircase and took her to her room. Her mouth fell open as she entered. The room was enormous and positively the most gorgeous bedroom Felicity had ever been in. In the middle of the opposite wall, a king-sized canopy bed with silky red bedclothes sat. Next to the bed were two small nightstands. Directly across from them was a fireplace with a dark marble mantle. Flames were flickering in the fireplace, giving the rest of the room a warm homey glow. In front of the hearth, a small table and two chairs were positioned. In the far corner, a large mahogany desk rested, and alongside the wall to Felicity's right were bookcases filled with different tomes. The final aspect, and perhaps her favorite, to Felicity's new room was a large window covered with curtains of the same red silky material that adorned the bed. Lord Voldemort may be the most evil Dark wizard alive, but Felicity had to admit he knew how to decorate a room.

"Is the room to Mistress' liking?" Taffy asked, beaming at the bedroom she probably spent most of her life keeping up.

"Yes, Taffy. It'll do, thank you." Felicity glanced around the room until her eyes finally rested upon the bed. She really was tired. The twenty-three-year-old just wanted to curl up in the bed and try to forget she had been kidnapped. Then Felicity looked down. She had just remembered the only clothing she had brought (not that she had much of a choice) with her were the clothes on her back. She wasn't planning on being abducted, so she had worn her dressiest – and heaviest – robes to Jack's funeral. There was no way Felicity was sleeping in that. "Taffy, would you happen to know if Lord Voldemort has any clothes for me?"

As if someone had been listening in on their conversation, a mahogany wardrobe appeared out of thin air and landed near the door Felicity and Taffy were standing at. It was surprisingly quiet landing even though it dropped from six inches in the air. Felicity walked over to the armoire before opening it unceremoniously. Inside was a vast amount of Muggle-clothing all appearing to be Felicity's size. There were many lavish dresses, nightgowns, shirts, and pants hanging. Felicity once again let her mouth hang open. "Did you do all this, Taffy?" Felicity asked, unable to take her eyes off the various clothing items.

"No, no, Mistress. Taffy doesn't do it. It was Master. Master is great wizard."

"But how…? Why… Muggle-clothing?" Felicity realized suddenly the strangeness of it all. A man who loathed Muggles wanted his captive dressed like one?

"T-Taffy believes Master… t-took… clothing. Wealthy Muggles is less likely to notice missing clothing." Felicity nodded in understanding. Voldemort had stolen the clothing from rich Albanian women, who probably could clothe a third-world country having given up their precious clothes. All it would take was a simple Summoning Charm and the Muggles would never know they'd lost any clothing items.

Felicity dismissed her new personal servant, and, dressed in silk nightgown, laid down upon her bed. She stared up at the ceiling blankly. She hadn't realized she'd begun to cry, but wet tears poured down her face and she couldn't stop herself. Felicity hadn't once allowed herself to cry about her brother's death. She told herself she must be strong for her father, but here, she didn't have to be. All was lost here. She was thousands of miles from her family, her job, her friends, her _life. _

The gravity of the situation finally hit her. She was trapped in a house in Albania with a sadistic sociopath without a wand. She wasn't getting out of this as easily as she briefly thought back in her bedroom in England. Her only hope was sitting in a desk in the Ministry of Magic. If Harry Potter could find Voldemort, she would be saved. But would he even realize Voldemort was the one who kidnapped her? Harry thought he had killed the Dark Lord nineteen years ago; Voldemort would probably be the last person he thought of to abduct Felicity. The thought of it only made her cry harder. The tears came so hard and so fast Felicity had a tough time breathing and had to clutch her side for some form of comfort. She fell asleep with wet cheeks and a sore throat.

Morning came and went. Taffy brought a weary Felicity a platter filled with breakfast items. She refused every bit of it except for a glass of water. After telling Taffy not to bother her for the rest of the day, Felicity spent hours inspecting the books on the shelves. _Hexes, Curses, and One-Hundred Malicious Spells, Dabble in the Dark Arts, Advanced Wizard Dark Arts Training. _Felicity was starting to notice a pattern. After skimming the tamest of the volumes in the bookcases, all Felicity did was stare out the window.

What she saw there was probably going to be the only part of Albania ever made visible to her. She didn't imagine Voldemort letting his precious Horcrux take short walks to the village marketplace. It really was too bad that the view from her window wasn't all that spectacular. Felicity only saw a snow-covered forest and one solitary mountain off in the distance.

Though it wasn't much, the sight of nature was the only thing that kept her sanity going. It reminded her that her life was still out there, and that she could still return to her home and start back up on the road of success as soon as she could back.

As she leaned her forehead upon the cool glass, a dark figure entered her room. Voldemort watched her for a few moments before speaking. But Felicity didn't hear a word of it. She just waited until he stopped talking. She was only vaguely aware that the imposing man had left the room. She was lost in her protective trance. _No emotions_, she kept telling herself, _no emotions, no emotions, no emotions…_

A week passed. Each day was strikingly similar to the day before. Felicity would wake up, be served by Taffy (where the witch refused anything greater than water and a piece of toast), peruse the Dark Arts books or spent time writing letters at her desk that she doubted would ever be sent out. Then, Felicity would reject any company for the remainder of the day and stare out the window blankly. She wouldn't eat. The only person allowed in her room was Lord Voldemort – not that she could do much for that situation. And the Dark wizard did come everyday at the same time. Felicity merely heard a cold voice when he talked to her. She never quite heard the words he was saying. Eventually, Voldemort would leave, and Felicity would retreat to her bed.

It was Monday afternoon when Taffy entered Felicity's bedroom unannounced. She carried a very frightened facial expression and hid her hands behind her back. "Mistress?" Felicity didn't answer, but took her eyes off the window to let Taffy know she was listening. "Master is requesting your presence at dinner tonight in the Grand Hall."

"Tell him 'request denied.'" Felicity said a little too snappishly. Taffy looked even more scared.

"He says you'd says that. He wishes Taffy to tell Mistress it is an order and your f-father's life is in danger if Mistress doesn't obey." Felicity sighed while angered bubbled within her. As long as Voldemort kept threatening Felicity's father there was no use defying him.

"Fine. You're dismissed, Taffy."

"But Taffy must also tells Mistress that Master requires you to be dressed accordingly."

"Dressed accordingly…?"

"Yes, Master picked a dress out for Mistress. He hangs it in Missus' wardrobe." Felicity inwardly groaned while rubbed her face with her hands.

"Very well. Leave now, Taffy." Without another word, Taffy snapped her fingers and she was gone. Felicity turned back to the window, but nature no longer captivated her. She wandered over to the chair placed in front of the fireplace and sat, staring at the dancing flames.

It was twenty minutes until Lord Voldemort would make his daily appearance, as tradition dictated, in Felicity's room. He never came.

She glanced out the window. It was almost sunset. Dinnertime. Felicity got up form the comfortable chair and sauntered over to her wardrobe, opening the doors as she arrived. Her dress was there as promised. She gasped a little as she saw it. It was long and black and sleek. It was a halter dress with a plunging V-neckline and a nonexistent back. It was a pretty dress, only Felicity wished she wasn't wearing it for Voldemort. She silently slipped it on and picked a pair of black heels from the bottom of the armoire, which she promptly slid on. Then Felicity grabbed the silk, black shawl that accompanied the dress and glanced at the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door.

She wasn't the same Felicity as the week before. Though she was usually tall and lanky, she was even more so now that she refused to eat – in fact, she had barely any meat left on her bones. She was five foot nine, a hundred pounds, and without a particularly curvaceous build. She noticed the most dramatic change in her face, however. Her once bright, determined expression was replaced with a rather ghostly figure. Her eyes no longer held the warmness they always used to in the amber depths of her irises. Felicity had dark purple circles under her eyes from dreamless and wary sleeps where she was constantly wondering if someone would decide to enter the room unannounced and decide he no longer needed his Horcrux. The fat had melted off her heart-shaped face and all that was left was a skeleton of who she used to be. Her blond curls hung limply around her face, the golden hair that earned her the name, "Goldilocks," in Auror training was no more; it was dull and browning. Felicity sighed at her failing appearance before angrily shutting the wooden doors and charging for the exit to the room.

Felicity stepped outside her door for the first time since her imprisonment. She let out a little gasp of surprise as she saw Taffy was waiting for her right outside the room. The house-elf gave a look of quiet adoration as she spoke, "Mistress looks very pretty." She paused, with eyes full of admiration. Felicity knew she didn't deserve them. "Taffy is supposed to guide Missus to Grand Hall for Master." Felicity curtly nodded and Taffy led them through the Albanian mansion's hall much like the week before.

They arrived at their destination very soon and stopped in front of cherry wooden double doors. Taffy stretched her full length to reach the golden door handles and swung both of the doors open. The room was gigantic, complete with a large table capable of seating thirty and fireplace that gave the room an eerie shine. She assumed Lord Voldemort would be sitting at the head of the table. He wasn't there, however.

In his stead, a young man sat. He couldn't have been much older than Felicity. He appeared to be tall – taller than even Felicity herself – and had dark features. His authoritative face was shaped nicely with cropped raven black hair and his eyes were a mesmerizing hunter green. Felicity had to admit he was extremely handsome, although flirtation was the furthest thing from her mind in her present situation.

"Please, Miss Tylers, take a seat." He gestured to the seat to the immediate right of him. She walked warily, realizing the oddity that was this young man. Why was he hanging around Lord Voldemort?

"Who are you?" Felicity asked, suspiciously. The attractive man smirked, which surprisingly made him look more attractive.

"I am the owner of this house. The owner of Taffy. The owner of _you._" It was him. It _was_ Lord Voldemort. Felicity was about to retort that no one owned her, but she just couldn't do it. Probably because he _did_ own her. She did nothing without him knowing about it. "Now, sit. And I must say you do look ravishing tonight, Felicity."

Felicity said nothing but sat in the appointed place. As soon as she was sitting, she turned and looked in the opposite direction of the younger Voldemort. He just smirked again. "I suppose you are wondering how I managed to make myself twenty-five again? It was simple, really. I created a potion to 'turn back time.' Of course, this potion itself took much time to brew, and it required the sand of a time-turner – those are impeccably hard to find these days, you know. Apparently, most all of them were destroyed twenty years ago. Good thing I have my sources, eh? The potion allows the user to return to a physical peak in their lives and relive their years. It isn't a substitute for Horcruxes, though. This potion cannot help you live forever, just live _young_ forever. Shall we eat?" The younger Voldemort shoved a fork full of chicken in his mouth. Felicity just stared at the food.

"Ah, yes. Taffy told me you hadn't been eating but miniscule amounts each day. That's really not healthy, my dear. I wouldn't want my Horcrux starving to death when we're so amply provided for here. Go ahead, have a drink of wine." He motioned towards the glass in front of her filled with red wine, but she did not move. She only looked incredulously at the thing. It would easily be concealed if he had slipped some sort of potion in it. "It isn't poisoned, if that's what you're worried about. I need my Horcrux alive, remember?" Still, Felicity didn't move a muscle. Rage flared in Voldemort's face. He immediately rose from the table, sending the chair flying backwards, and leaned over to Felicity's side of the table. The abrupt movement scared Felicity, but she only clenched up as Voldemort got closer to her. Voldemort took his long and pale fingers and squished Felicity's two cheeks together, which forced her mouth to open. He grabbed the cup of wine from the table and shoved it in Felicity's mouth. She was forced to swallow the liquid as more flooded into her mouth. She coughed and choked before the anger in Voldemort's eyes faded.

He put the cup down as she finished coughing whatever of the liquid she could up again. He calmly returned to his chair, picked it up, and sat in it when placed in the correct position. After combing his hair meticulously back into it's rightful place, Voldemort ordered, "Eat, or on my command your father will die." Anger bubbled in Felicity, but it was no use not eating. She picked up her fork and stuck a bit of chicken in her mouth, all the while a pair of green eyes staring at her. Voldemort immediately smiled as she chewed and swallowed.

Felicity ate in wrathful silence as Voldemort rambled on about various potions and spells. She was only half-listening. Three-quarters of the way done with the meal, Voldemort turned to Felicity. "Stop acting so childish and talk to me, Felicity." He ordered. The anger bubble burst.

"_Childish? Childish? _You killed my mother, killed my brother, and have my father under a constant death threat and you expect me to act _civilized_?" She snapped, scathingly. Then Voldemort did something very unsuited to his face, he…smiled, apparently amused by Felicity.

"Not civilized, but I merely ask you provide some entertainment."

"Oh, I'm glad I _amuse _you, Tom Riddle." Voldemort flinched uncharacteristically at the sound of his true name. Felicity sneered. "That's right. How could I have forgotten? You hate that utterly _common _name, don't you Tom?" He flinched once more. "I suppose this is what you looked like back when you really _were _Tom Riddle. Well then, I should call you by your proper name."

Fury flashed through Tom's eyes. He'd always, always despised his name. Tom would have killed her on the spot if he didn't still need her. To prevent himself from doing anything more explosive, Tom screamed, "Leave! Go, now!"

Felicity didn't need to be told twice. On the way out, she picked up the wine glass and threw it on the ground, shattering the crystal. The blond witch retreated to her bedroom, fuming with rage. She suddenly wished she had her wand. Felicity was unprotected against the greatest Dark wizard of all time, and he was angry with her. In summary: she was screwed.

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><p><strong>AN: You know what randomly sounds good to me write now? Gummi bears... Yum... Anyway... How did you like? Just to let you know, Voldy from here on out shall be known as Tom Riddle. Good with you? I hope so because you don't really have a say in the matter. Be my favorite and review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: What? I _updated_? No! That's impossible! I don't update! In all seriousness I am very sorry for my vanishing act (I could sooo be a magician). I hope it won't happen again. But I'm not gonna lie... it will... at least during school it will. Even now I am sacrificing valuable homework time to post this. I apologize to all my readers and sincerely wish to tell you I WILL NOT GIVE UP ON THIS STORY! I adore it way too much for that... anyway, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Um, I've run out of cutsie ways to say this. I don't own _Harry Potter_ or any of its affiliates.**

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><p>Love Doesn't Exist<p>

Chapter Four

The smell of bacon and sausage woke Felicity from her slumber. The aromas wafted through the space, swirling with the cool bedroom air, to create an utterly delicious scent. The silk sheets of the bed were cold to Felicity's touch as she sat upright. The food was floating towards her, leaving a trail of steam in its wake.

Taffy stood at the foot of the bed, seeming to be in intense concentration. The elf's fingers were close together, as if she had just snapped.

A week and a half had passed since Felicity's dinner encounter with the dashing Tom. In all that time, Felicity hadn't seen the wizard once, nor had she neglected to skip a single meal. Perhaps Felicity was tired of fighting, or rather, perhaps she realized that starving herself wasn't the most rational of plans. As for not seeing Tom, Felicity assumed he was protecting her, protecting her by staying away. He was angry, and she was defenseless. Killing her would just kill himself. So he stayed away, which was perfectly fine for Felicity. She could plan better with fewer distractions.

The tray of food was gently set upon Felicity's lap as Taffy broke her gaze with the platter.

It looked delicious. Bacon and eggs and sausage and toast, all cooked to perfection. It was a shame Felicity was a prisoner in this mansion, for it would have been the best vacation she'd ever had otherwise. "Thank you, Taffy." Felicity stated. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and yawned. Picking up the polished silver fork, she managed to knock a glass of orange juice clumsily. Thankfully, it didn't tip over and the juice remained in the clear container.

It was then Felicity truly took notice to the glass. It was cracked, but still sealed together with an unimaginable force. It looked like a quilt of glass shards, a fantastic puzzle. At first, Felicity just found the magic (for it was undoubtedly magic) beautiful, but her memory suddenly jogged and all the pieces fell into place.

She was livid. Clenching her teeth and hands together, she pursed her lips. How dare he mock her? How dare he? It was the very same wine glass Felicity had shattered the week before. She had thrown it down in raging defiance of Tom. And he hadn't punished her for the act. Well, this was her punishment. She knew exactly what he had done. "He made you bring this to me, didn't he?" Felicity gestured to the cup.

He was the greatest Dark wizard of all time. He could restore the wine glass to perfection; there didn't have to be any hairline fractures, but he wanted them. He wanted them to tell Felicity something. Her defiance didn't go unnoticed, and it was worthless. Tom Riddle can undo whatever horrible act she had committed in disobedience. These actions were useless. There was nothing that could perturb him, save perhaps the use of his real name. And she intended to use that to her advantage.

"Yes, Mistress. Taffy does as she was told. Is it not to the Missus's liking?" Taffy held such adoration for her Master in her squeaky voice that Felicity knew a negative answer would only result in confusion. So Felicity just said, "No, Taffy. It's fine. Thank you for the food. You are dismissed." The elf nodded and vanished from the room.

There was a perceptible emptiness to the room when only Felicity occupied it. It was as if the air turned colder, the space wider, the furniture smaller. Perhaps there was something to be said of Felicity because of that. Perhaps she wasn't one to light up a room, or fill it with her vivacity. And no, this wasn't just because she entrapped in a mansion with a sociopath. She'd always been that way. As if her presence wasn't enough. As if she had to _work _to fill a room.

Felicity sighed before stabbing a sausage link with her fork. One bite and she craved the rest of it. The meal was mouthwatering. How did Taffy cook this well? Felicity ate all of it, but refused to drink the orange juice. She had _much _better plans for that.

"Taffy?" Felicity beckoned in a loud voice. Taffy was most likely nowhere near the vicinity of the witch, but she always her call. Seconds later, the elf appeared with a dirty washcloth in hand. She must have been doing the dishes recently.

"Yes, Mistress?" Those big eyes of hers were shining with a happiness to oblige in whatever her "Mistress" required.

"I'm finished with my breakfast, Taffy. It was excellent. Thank you. But I have to ask something of you." Felicity paused, waiting for a reply, but the elf only blinked her eyes in anticipation of the request. Felicity continued. "I need you to take this glass straight to Master Riddle."

Felicity grinned with satisfaction, and perhaps with a bit of a devilish gleam to her eyes. She sent her servant away, leaving the room empty once more.

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><p>Felicity decided she would return to her usual place before the window. She had by now moved a chair in front of the giant panes of glass so she might rest comfortably while gazing into the wide expanse of Albania.<p>

The witch searched the top of the snow-covered mountain before her. At first, she was looking for a some sign of life, some way of her possible escape. But not after long, she was reminded of her father. Oh, how he so liked to hike with Jackie! And then she remembered…

Her brother was dead. Those long hikes to the summit were no more. Her father wouldn't be able to handle it. His favorite child dead, his only caretaker thousands of miles away trapped with a sociopath. He wouldn't be able to care for himself without her. He was left to his utter depression alone. Felicity cried for him, cried for her brother, cried for herself.

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><p>Mr. Harry Potter's desk was neat… to a troll. Papers were strewn about the surface. Several coffee cups stained with their last liquids were positioned precariously near the edge of the mahogany desk. He had various knick-knacks near a large photo of his family. His wife, Ginny, his sons, Albus and James, and his only daughter, Lily, all smiled at him, waving their hands in excited greeting.<p>

But Mr. Potter couldn't smile back. Not today.

"Ron, no one has seen her since the funeral. If that's what happened to her brother, what will they do to her?" Harry stood from behind his desk, staring directly into the eyes of his friend of thirty years.

Mr. Ron Weasely was pot-bellied middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a terrible wardrobe. His wife had bought him all his clothes. No matter the physicality of the man, he was still a great Auror. He helped defeat Lord Voldemort, for Merlin's sake! But now Ron was arguing with Harry.

"We don't even know if Felicity was abducted. She could have just run off for all we know! Dealing with a brother's death is difficult. Believe me, I know…" he seemed to falter on the last words before regaining his argumentative tone, "I think we should wait another week. If she's not back by the end of the month, we could launch a search party." Harry shook his head. He laid both hands on the very edge of the desk and squeezed tightly.

"I know her. You're forgetting she is the first student I ever taught. I know more about her than she would care to know about herself. She would _never _leave her family. She couldn't leave her father."

Before another word could be uttered, a young man, about the age of Felicity, burst through Mr. Potter's office door. He had a look of pain – no, _agony_ – on his face. He had auburn hair, just a shade darker than Mr. Weasely's, and grey eyes that seemed to brood. "Tell me it's not true, Mr. Potter. Please!" Harry, knowing exactly what this man was asking, answered accordingly.

"Yes, Scott. It's her. Felicity's gone missing." Scott Fawcett, cousin to Miss Sarah Fawcett who had attended Hogwarts with Harry and Ron, had been away on a mission for the past three months. He had no contact with anyone, except Felicity. He sent the blonde witch letters every week, but she never replied. He had absolutely no reason to believe she was gone.

"B-but how? And why? Is what happened to her brother true too?" His look of panic didn't dissolve. He searched Ron and Harry's eyes. What he found wasn't reassuring.

"Yeah, mate. I found Jack Tylers myself. Whoever did that to him really wanted him dead." Ron stated. He quickly glanced to Harry, who was shooting him a look that clearly said he wasn't helping matters.

"We don't know why the Tylers were targeted. A week and a half after Jack went missing, his body was found at the Shrieking Shack. Felicity has been gone longer than that. She could very well have joined her brother by now." In an instant, Scott's expression of utter despair shifted into a determined resoluteness as he clenched his fists and shoved whatever vestige of emotions he had into the back of his mind.

He stared doggedly into Mr. Potter's eyes and asked, "Request to lead a search party to find Felicity Tylers, sir?" There was something dangerous in Scott's voice, as if he could break at any moment and suddenly commit a mass killing. Harry sighed. He was sure of the search party, but Scott leading it? That's a whole other issue.

"Look, Scott. I know of your previous relationship. You care for her. You want her back. You're willing to eliminate anyone who stands in your way. Sometimes, these emotions are effective, but in this case, we really can't take any chances. You're emotions are dangerous. I don't think your leadership would be a good idea right now. You'd take too many risks for her. Scott, you can be on the search party, but I think it would be better if Malfoy led it." Scott bit his lip so as not to say anything. "I'm sorry, Scott. I want her back too." Mr. Fawcett's face made another change: from determined to incomparable sadness.

"I didn't tell her. I…never told her." Harry nodded, understanding the feeling well.

"Go, Scott. Find Malfoy. Tell him I need to see him." And Scott left as quickly as he came.

* * *

><p>Finished feeling sorry for herself, Felicity grabbed a book from the shelf and retreated to the chair in front of the fireplace. She alternated between reading a few lines and watching the flames dance before her.<p>

She suddenly realized how very boring all of this was. For a split second, she almost wished Tom would come for her. If anything, he would provide some interest. But that was only a slight moment…

It was monotonous, dreary. If her life was somehow held within the pages of the book she was reading, the sentences would be long and meaningless. The plot wouldn't have any interesting twists. The action would never come. The ending would just go on…for eternity…

Startled, Felicity dropped the book in her hands to floor, as she heard a knock at the door. It was loud and forceful. Taffy must have been upset. "Yes, Taffy?" The door opened, creaking a little as it was pushed back. Felicity didn't bother to turn to the house elf.

"It's not Taffy, Miss Tylers." Felicity's eyes instantly darted to the voice, decidedly not-Taffy. Of course, as if he had just heard her thoughts, Mr. Tom Riddle appeared in her bedroom.

"Tom?" The man's face hardened at his name, but this time he didn't have quite so volatile a response as at dinner the week before.

"Miss Tylers." Tom's eyes glanced around the room before spotting for what he was evidently looking for. The other chair. He pulled out his wand, as if rubbing in that Felicity couldn't use magic, lifted the chair, and put it right next to Felicity's. She rolled her eyes. He sat down and gracefully cast one leg over the other. "That was quite a daring stunt you pulled today, Miss Tylers. I hadn't expected it." She refused to look at him.

"Then you don't expect much of me, do you?"

"Perhaps I should." Felicity snorted and turned completely away from him while still in the confines of her chair.

"You must forgive my previous actions, Miss Tylers. You, of all people, should know how much I _despise_ that name. And you caught me unprepared. That will not happen again." Felicity was about to make some sarcastic remark to her captor, but suddenly thought of something.

"No." Tom, who still held a slight smirk, had a hint of confusion tinting his eyes.

"No what?"

"No, I won't forgive you." He narrowed his eyes at her, daring her to speak. "You found the exact way to phrase the 'apology' without using the words 'I'm sorry' or actually feeling sorry. So no, I will not forgive you." She finally held his gaze. They were staring – no, _glaring – _at each other with such disdain that their eyes seemed a corrosive material. The acid burned right through.

"That is perfectly fine, Miss Tylers. I don't need your forgiveness, as long as this doesn't affect our relationship." Tom's false politeness shone through once more. Felicity continued the acidic glare.

"Relationship? Do you call kidnapping a twenty-three-year-old woman a _relationship_?" Here Felicity 'humphed' with a particularly dramatic flair, "I would call it deranged." They were silent for a few moments. Mr. Riddle held his gaze on the girl almost as if he was calculating, analyzing, judging. Then his velvety-smooth voice broke the tumultuous silence.

"Why do you hate me so much, Miss Tylers?" She leaned across the armrest of the chair towards the Dark wizard and answered with so much loathing Tom could feel daggers.

"_You ruined my life._" Tom was stunned. She just spoke…Parseltongue? Of course, though Tom _felt_ stunned, he remained stoically sitting his chair, slightly raising an eyebrow. He smirked.

"_How so?_" He asked, returning the snake language. Her eyes stared into his for a smoldering second before she turned away and glanced towards the window. "How so?" He repeated, this time in perfect English.

Time elapsed while the two said absolutely nothing. The sun was going down. All that could be seen of it was slowly slipping behind the peak of the mountain. This did, however, achieve a remarkable glare across the snow-covered summit. It gleamed with an orangey-yellow happiness that, in turn, reflected onto Felicity's face. Her features were lit up with a brightness only comparable to a child's first lollipop. But the brightness never reached her eyes, which were still completely dark and filled with sadness.

"I was your Horcrux. But no one could have ever possibly guessed that. Everyone thought you were dead. So, when I showed up at Hogwarts, a completely vulnerable eleven-year-old, I was placed on that stool and the Sorting Hat was placed on my head, just as it had been done for hundreds of years before me. The Hat spoke to me… saying I was 'particularly difficult to place' when someone just so happened to let their snake escape from its cage. It slithered to the spot directly in front of me and started speaking to me. I was at Hogwarts. I thought that was normal. I spoke back. I hadn't known I was a Parselmouth before then. Now everyone knew. The Hat knew. I was sent directly to Slytherin, even though my entire family had been Hufflepuffs to that day. No one talked to me after that day. I was a _Parselmouth_. They all knew that Harry was one because of you, but you were dead. I was a Parselmouth because I was destined to be evil. I was alone my entire seven years at school. I never had friend. After a while, I didn't even want any. And it was all because of _you_." She chose that exact moment to turn back to Tom. Chills ran down her spine as she saw the expression on him face. Satisfaction. He truly was a cruel man.

"It made you stronger, didn't it? You focused on your studies more than petty friendships, didn't it? Why blame me for your loneliness when you could be exalting me for your success? I may have been the source of your Parseltongue and the failure of your social life, but I gave you so much more in return. You never would have been the witch you are without me. Accept it, and then thank me," Tom insisted, as if this were the most logical explanation of things. Felicity smiled slightly.

"Thank you, _Tom_," His left eye flinched quickly, "for making it that much easier to _hate_ you." She scoffed.

"You will not get sympathy from me, Miss Tylers. Surely you must now that." She laughed quietly.

"I never asked for any. I was asking you to understand. But you failed. Just as you failed at every other aspect of your pitiful life." Felicity sneered at the man across from her. His jaw hardened as his eyes lit up with a red gleam. He stood up from the chair, walked slowly to Felicity, and stopped right before her. She felt her heart race a little. Tom raised his hand. Felicity closed her eyes and waited for the oncoming blow.

Moments passed. It never came.

When she opened her eyes, Tom was sitting in the chair once more with the book Felicity had been reading earlier in his hands. She looked down. Yes, it was the same book.

Felicity let out a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. Tom had no response, but kept reading. She turned away from him, slightly off-balance, and glanced back to the fire before her. The flames were no longer their natural red and orange. They were green.

* * *

><p>Hours had passed and the two were still sitting there with statuesque expressions plastered onto their faces. Tom, for whatever reason, didn't leave. Though it was well past midnight, he remained reading the book. Felicity alternated between watching Tom and watching the flames of the now green fire. Her eyes grew heavy and she tried to blink the sleep from her them. There was no way she was falling asleep with Tom Riddle still in the room. It was like a silent challenge between the two: would Tom leave first or would Felicity fall asleep first?<p>

She held out another hour, but already she had dozed off several times. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier until finally they were glued shut. She heard one last thing before oblivion took over…a small chuckle from beside her. And then the world was black.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So how did I do? Okay? Awful? I hope you enjoyed it. I really enjoyed writing the scene with Harry and Scott. Speaking of which, does anyone have a guess as to who this Mr. Scott is and what his 'previous relationship' to Felicity was all about? Leave the guess in a review and I will answer in another chapter...**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Well, I suck. Five months. Who takes that long to update? Apparently me... I'M SORRY! Please, yell at me every so often. It makes me feel guilty enough to actually write. In all seriousness, I'm sorry for the delay. I should be back up and running now that school's out. If I haven't update by next week I will consider myself a failure! Thanks for reading everyone! I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Who started this whole disclaimer thing? Grrr... I don't own Harry Potter or any of its affliates. **

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><p>Love Doesn't Exist<p>

Chapter Five

Felicity woke up with sharp pains radiating throughout her spine and neck. Her face was pressed against the side of the chair and her back was curved at an awkward angle. Yet Felicity was altogether glad Mr. Riddle hadn't decided to be a 'gentleman' and carry her to her bed. She didn't want him touching her even if it saved her from pain.

Felicity stretched her arms and yawned, finding it relieving to change positions. She decided she would try to stand, pain and all. Her muscles creaked and ached with every movement. She heard soft cracks from her back where her spine had finally realigned itself to the correct position. A few more seconds of stretching and Felicity felt worlds better, though her body still screamed fatigue.

The blonde made her way to the wardrobe and picked out an outfit for the day. A pair of black trousers and a white silk blouse. She changed quickly, as always, afraid that a certain someone would make an unannounced visit. Felicity cringed at the Muggle clothing. It was all so uncomfortable and dressy, or perhaps they were just the clothes Tom could snag. The latter was probably more likely.

Taffy entered the room with her characteristic _pop_. The elf carried a tray of food and looked surprised to see Felicity out of bed and dressed. "Missus are up early. Taffy brings Missus her breakfast." The elf broke into a wide smile. She looked incomparably happy just serving her Master. How anyone could enjoy working for that monster of a master, she couldn't tell.

"Yes, thank you. Just leave it on the table." She gestured to the small coffee table just in front of the fireplace. Taffy laid the tray on the wood and began to snap her fingers, as if about to leave. A question suddenly popped into Felicity's mind, and, before she could control it, the inquiry simply slipped out. "Taffy?" the elf held her fingers in mid-snap, "Where does your Master eat breakfast?"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Felicity regretted ever having uttered them. Why should she care where Tom eats his breakfast? As long as it was far from her, it shouldn't matter. So why did she ask that? What dark pit of her heart scrounged up that awfully horrible question?

"Master? He don't take breakfast. Master refuses it. Taffy offers everyday, but Master is always working." Taffy suddenly took her right hand and planted it directly on her forehead, creating a loud slapping noise. The unexpected noise surprised Felicity. "Stupid Taffy. Stupid, silly Taffy." She repeatedly smacked herself on the forehead.

"Taffy." _Slap._ "Taffy." _Slap_. "Taffy!" She yelled. The elf stopped and stared at her mistress with wide, sorrowful eyes. "What's wrong?" Taffy wrung her hands together. She looked to the floor.

"I disobeyed my master." _Strange how she could say that particular sentence grammatically flawless._ "Taffy didn't say what Master wanted her to." Tears welled in the elf's eyes.

"It's alright, Taffy. Just tell me now and I won't tell Riddle." Taffy gazed into her mistress' eyes with adoration.

"Oh thank you, Mistress. Thank you! You is very kind to Taffy." Felicity smiled and Taffy gathered herself together for a moment. "Master wants Mistress to meet him in the Grand Library after breakfast. And if Missus refuses, Master says Master will drag Mistress there himself."

"Thank you, Taffy. But…where's the Grand Library?" She'd been in this giant manor for almost two weeks now and had seen all of two rooms: her bedroom and the Grand Hall. Even on the way to these rooms, Felicity couldn't see anything through the closed doors of all other hallways and thresholds.

"Oh! Taffy will shows Missus. After Missus is done with breakfast." She curtsied awkwardly on her knobby legs and vanished in a flash. Felicity sighed and sat down for breakfast.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Malfoy?" Scott lightly tapped on his office door.<p>

"Enter." The Auror said quietly, but forcefully. Scott twisted the golden knob and pushed forward, the door opening under the compulsion. Draco Malfoy sat, hunched over documents on his desk, the top of his platinum blonde hair shining in the low lighting of his office. He dropped his quill on the paper and glanced up. "What do you want, Mr. Fawcett?"

The boy had entered his office only a day beforehand with a special message from Harry Potter. And now, he was babysitting Scott and his search party. Quite frankly, Draco could care less what happened to Felicity Tylers and her brother. He had bigger issues to worry about. The pain in his left arm increased everyday. He had to clench it tightly just to make the pain disappear for slight moments. Draco tried not to think about what this throbbing pain meant. Of course, the Dark Mark had faded away as soon as Lord Voldemort had been dumped in the ground. What was the cause of the pain? Probably the annoying boy standing in front of him.

"I want to know what our first move is. I've already assembled some Aurors in training to assist us on our search. It shouldn't be too dangerous and they could gain valuable experience." _Aurors in training? Kid, you're only two years out of the program. _You're _still in training, as far as I'm concerned. _

"And under whose permission did you do this?" Mr. Malfoy glared at the young man with a stern look. _The imbecile doesn't know the first thing about abductions…or authority._

"No one's permission, sir." The room went quiet. Suddenly, a look of desperation crossed Scott's face. "Look, I need to know if you'll help me find Felicity or not. If you say no, I'll do it myself. I just need to know so I can start the pursuit!"

"Relax, Fawcett. I'm going to help you. But there are more impending disasters with the rest of the world for the moment. Three murders, two abductions, twenty-six charges of wizard crime, and one lovesick kid who won't leave me alone long enough for me to do my job. Add a wife and child to the mix and you get Draco Malfoy. If you want to make yourself useful, go talk to her father. He might have some information. And don't speak to me again until you have your emotions under control. Dismissed." Scott exited the room with a silent defiance. And Draco held his arm in torture.

This particular spasm of pain was so horrible, Draco simply had to roll up his sleeve and find out what was so wrong.

His eyes widened. It was back. The Dark Mark was back.

* * *

><p>Scott had walked the same route so many times he could be blindfolded and full of Firewhisky and still get there without as much as a second thought. As he marched on, a little more hurried than usual, Scott remembered back to a time Felicity and him were coming home from training.<p>

_He walked to the left of her always. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. His grandmother made sure to teach him that at least. Felicity found the courteous gesture rather annoying – as if she couldn't take care of herself – but never did have the heart to tell him. His right hand was intertwined with her left. He could feel cold metal against his fingers. The thought made him smile one of those 'once every million years' smiles that only a man is capable of and only a woman can receive. "What?" She asked with a playful voice._

_"Nothing. I'm just a lucky man." He smiled again. She squeezed his hand, grinning._

_"Yes. Yes, you are… Now tell me why." He stopped walking. To avoid being jerked, she stopped with him. There they were, staring right into each other's eyes. Amber met grey in a symphony of emotions. _

_He leaned down slightly and kissed her. "That's why."_

_"You're so banal." Their lips touched again. _

_"I thought normal women loved that kind of stuff." Their faces were so close._

_"C'mon Scottie, you should know by now I'm no normal woman." She smiled mischievously, forced her hand apart from his, and ran down the walkway. "You know, in order marry a girl, you have to catch her first!" She laughed wildly, her smooth curls bouncing with each bound she took. _

_"I thought that was only for _normal _girls!" He shouted to her._

_"I guess your cheesy little line worked on me after all!" _

_"I am a lucky man…" He whispered to himself. She laughed triumphantly and he took off after her._

What ever happened to those days? That was a stupid question. He knew the answer. He despised the answer. He screwed it up. All of it.

Scott saw black out of the corner of his eye. But as quickly as it was there, it had disappeared. It looked like a cloak of some kind, hiding in a nearby ally. His Auror senses tingling, the wizard continued to walk forward, using his peripherals to see at least somewhat behind him.

There it was again.

He was being followed.

* * *

><p>Giant wooden doors were all that separated Felicity from the Grand Library. Taffy had vanished just moments before, promising that she would come back for the witch later. She took a deep breath, hoping that Tom was in one of his good moods (or at least, the mood where he <em>didn't<em> want to murder her), and she opened the door.

Felicity liked books. As long as they were mildly informative and not a complete waste of her time, she read quite a number of books back home. The point was, she _liked _books, but she didn't _love_ them. Until now.

The room was as big as the Grand Hall. Row upon row of shelves upon shelves of books lined every wall. There was even one of those ladders designed for sizable libraries in the corner, sitting next to a giant wall-length window that paralleled the one in Felicity's bedroom. The room was decorated with gold and a pearly white. A great chandelier hung from the ceiling, though it wasn't lit and didn't look like it ever had been lit. In the center of the room were desks, chairs, modest floor lamps, and a comfortable-looking sofa. It was safe to say that Felicity's mouth was hanging open.

Seeing the library somehow made Felicity feel…calmer. More at home, dare she say it. There was something about the smell of the books and feel of the sun through the window that made her less…hostile. The atmosphere had changed. Three tons of Felicity's depression had lifted. She felt like more herself again.

Looking around for Tom, he was nowhere to be seen. She half-expected him to be behind her, about to whisper something creepily into her ear, just to make her feel inferior. But he wasn't there. No one but her… and the books.

Her simple black heels clicked and clacked on the marble floor as she slowly made her way through the library. It was her goal to read every single spine and drag her fingers across the beautiful titles. The immensity of the room had taken her aback and if she was forced to live in this house for the rest of her life, she was glad this library was at her disposal.

"I see you like my library." Felicity drew a sharp intake of air that echoed through the space. _What did I say? Whispered it in my ear._ The surprise only lasted a moment. It faded into emotionlessness.

"I would be lying to say I wasn't impressed." She turned to face him. "How big is this manor anyway? So far, it's only been getting bigger." Felicity took the moment to investigate Tom's appearance. He wore a dark grey suit with a black button-up shirt, unbuttoned just enough to show a little of his pale chest. After a second, she found herself staring directly at his chest wondering what it would be like to… _Stop it, Felicity. He's Lord Voldemort, for Merlin's sake! He killed your mother and brother and countless others._ She looked into his eyes, instead. Of course, that wasn't _much _better.

"You seem to be forgetting we're magical beings. And I'm the most powerful since Merlin himself." He spoke condescendingly, derisively, as if she were a three-year-old.

"Right. Magic." There was silence for a few moments. But then Felicity did something she was pretty sure rarely, if ever, occurred in the Riddle Mansion. She laughed. And once she started, it was hard to stop. The sound was unnatural. Unfeeling. Uncaring. She couldn't remember the last time she laughed. It was certainly prior to Jack's disappearance, and even before then she hadn't laughed much.

Tom, however, found no amusement in Felicity's outburst. He stood there, as still as a statue with absolutely no expression on his face. "What do you find so entertaining, Miss Tylers?" The laughing stopped. Now she really did feel like a three-year-old getting scolded.

"Nothing." She pulled herself together very quickly._ Staring at Tom, laughing uncontrollably… I've gone mad. _

"Good. Now if you're quite finished with your girlish antics, can we proceed to the reason I called you in here?" _Girlish antics? What does that even mean? _

"Fine." Tom walked over to the center of the room and took a seat in one of the medieval-looking chairs. Felicity happened to notice his shoes made the same clacking noise on the marble.

"Sit." He gestured to a chair opposite his. Felicity did as he said. "I figured you might as well have some use while you're here." _Thanks, Tom. _"You see, I'm not the only dark wizard to have Horcruxes. I'm not even the first to use a human soul as a Horcrux. There are others, my dear Felicity, who are still alive, who are still a threat, who still have power. And these wizards _will_ come after me... Ergo, they will come after _you._"

"And how do they know you're still alive?"

"Because they aren't stupid." He looked at her with the condescending glare once more. "Anyway, I'll need to discover what these wizards have used as Horcruxes and destroy them. We'll have an entire library to look through."

"Why should I help you?" Felicity asked, with eyes squinted and lips slightly pursed.

"I don't need anyone's _help_, Felicity. I am perfectly content at doing all the work myself. But since you're here, and have absolutely nothing else to do, you might as well. Considering they'll kill as soon as they find you, I didn't think it would be such a terrible plan for you to find them first. Understand?"

"Of course." There was a pause where Felicity thought. "Alright…I'll do it. Which wizard poses the most threat?" she asked, mocking Tom's self-important speech. He chose not to acknowledge the insolence.

"Gellert Grindelwald." Felicity's eyes widened. For a moment she could barely gather her thoughts.

"No, that can't be…that's just not possible…he's dead…Albus…Albus Dumbledore defeated him."

"No. That imbecile Dumbledore even directed Grindelwald to the abilities of Horcruxes. They then staged Grindelwald's defeat so he could slink into the shadows and search for the Deathly Hallows unobstructed. They even created a dummy – a clone – to sit and die in the Nurmengard prison. You see, I figured this all out in my fifth year at Hogwarts. I had always known there was something off about Dumbledore. That was the reason we despised each other."

"But, why? They all praised Dumbledore. They all called him the greatest Headmaster in Hogwart's history. Why would he do that? Commit such evil?"

"Because wizard or not, he was still a man. And he still wanted power. Power that the Hallows could bring. And of course, they say Dumbledore…_loved_…Grindelwald." He said the 'L' word with an obvious disdain, as if spitting on it and deciding it never existed. Felicity let this news all sink in. Needless to say, Felicity had never known Dumbledore. He was long dead before she even entered her years at Hogwarts. Therefore, Felicity had no way of deciphering whether Tom was really telling the truth or not. She had heard stories from Harry Potter…but were they true?

Tom simply continued. "Most of these books should be of service to us in one way or another. Right now, Grindelwald and I are on the same level. We know one another are living and we know we must find each other's Horcruxes. Beyond that, we have yet to discover any other information. So for the time being, you are safe." _Safe?_ Felicity certainly didn't feel safe. The 'Second Greatest Dark Wizard of All Time' – robbed of the title of 'First' only because of Tom – was hunting her, even if he didn't know it yet. Add to the mix that Felicity was trapped in a mansion with the 'Greatest Dark Wizard of All Time' and even had a part of his soul tucked away inside of her and Felicity was the furthest definition away from 'safe.' She was 'screwed.'

Trapped in her own bubble of thought, the blonde didn't notice the large, levitating book floating towards her. Only when it was dropped onto Felicity's lap and a cloudy explosion of dust erupted from within the pages, did she jerk back and shake off the ideas in her head.

"Begin." Tom looked expectantly at his Horcrux. She answered by opening the book. He smirked, thinking she had finally been subdued.

* * *

><p>Scott Fawcett continued to his destination. The discovery that he was being followed did little to perturb him. Of course he was hyper-vigilant – any sound or flash of movement would set off a rush of adrenaline that pulsated through his body – but he knew the man (or woman) was only doing reconnaissance. If he had wanted to kill Scott, he would have done so already.<p>

The real question was _why_ the man was following him. It may have been connected to Felicity's disappearance, in which case, he didn't mind the man. It was better that Felicity's captor know someone was looking for her. It would make him nervous. And men do stupid stuff when they get nervous.

The young Auror had by now turned onto the correct street. He counted six houses before abruptly stopping and facing the house on his right. It was small. Quaint. With wooden siding and a green door. Felicity had always loved how unassuming her little house had been; she would have made Scott move into her place after they were married. They argued for hours about that topic. He always wanted a new house. Somewhere where they could start fresh. Somewhere they could start fresh _together_. She wouldn't have it.

Scott knocked on the door. Nothing. He knocked again, this time also calling to Mr. Tylers. Still no answer. He tried the door. Open.

He hadn't been in Felicity's home in a long while. It had changed. Obviously, every picture of them together had been removed, but even beyond that the whole house seemed darker. It was messy. Papers were strewn every which way on the floors and tables. Dirty dishes lay on top of the papers in almost every room. The curtains were all drawn shut. The lights were all dimmed. Some chairs were turned over and photo albums torn apart. Scott couldn't really imagine Felicity leaving her home in such disarray. It must have been her father. "Mr. Tylers?" Still no one replied.

He found him, oddly enough, in the attic. A noise had alerted Scott that someone was rummaging through boxes in the small, musty space. He was one the floor, layers and layers of dust flying through the air around him. Tears cascaded down his face, already red from weeping. He sobbed as he looked through old newspaper clippings of the Hollyhead Harpies. Scott knew Jack was a recruiter for that team and Felicity had followed the news diligently.

He had aged since the last time Scott had seen him. A robust man, his gray hair was starting to recede as the line on his forehand and around his eyes increased. Looking down on his ex-fiancé's father, Scott couldn't help but feel the same sickly sadness that seemed to plague the entire house. He crouched down to Mr. Tylers' level.

"Mr. Tylers?" The man had no response. "Mr. Tylers? It's Scott. Do you remember me? I was engaged to your daughter for a while? I'm sorry about your son." Nothing again. "Look, I know this is tough, but I was wondering if you had any idea who abducted Felicity."

Finally, he spoke. "I loved him, you know. Lissy did too, though she wouldn't ever admit it." He had a faraway look in his eyes, as if somewhere happier. Or maybe as if nowhere at all.

"Mr. Tylers, do you know anything about Felicity's disappearan…?" The father interrupted him.

"Such a kind boy. He always shared his toys with others. Lissy never did, of course. It was all about success for her. Jackie just wanted to be loved. For everyone to love him."

"Mr. Tylers…"

"Who would want to kill my boy?" He paused, seemingly disoriented. "Lissy?" He called for her. "Lissy? Just like her not to come for her father. Jackie would have come."

"Mr. Tylers, you do know Felicity is missing, don't you?"

"Jackie would have come." Scott sighed. The poor man was a lost cause. The redhead didn't blame him. He lost his wife, beloved son, and daughter. He was alone.

Scott clapped him on the shoulder before turning to exit the attic.

"She's gone, Scott. Felicity was gone before I came home from Jack's funeral. She said she would be there, but she wasn't. I don't have anyone…left." A moment of clarity. Scott turned back around, hoping against hope Mr. Tylers had some kind of information for him. As quickly as the clarity came, it had vanished again. "Lissy," he talked to the air above him, "do you remember this game?" he gestured to the newspaper clipping in his right hand. "Jackie was so proud his team won, and we all went out for dinner? Do you remember that?"

"Lissy…?"

"Lissy…?"

Scott left the house with the sound of sobbing in his wake.

The next morning Mr. Tylers was dead.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: DUN DUN DUN DUUUUNNNNNN! I was really working the cliffhangers this chapter, huh? Well, I hope you enjoyed! The fun has only just begun...**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Yep, I'm a failure. Sorry guys. Here it is.**

**Disclaimer: It's mind boggling how you can think I own Harry Potter. I don't.**

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><p>Love Doesn't Exist<p>

Chapter Six

Not three hours had passed before Felicity was so bored she could have repeatedly hit herself on the head with a book just to provide some entertainment. She had already looked through three giant tomes of facts about Grindelwald's life and so far none had been minutely helpful. Tom had been utterly silent as well, his back turned to her while reading through the same book. Felicity found that a bit odd. One book? For three hours? Come to think of it, he hadn't turned a page in half an hour. He simply sat there, one arm propping up his head. _Wait a second…_

Felicity dropped the dusty book she was reading on the seat next to her as she stood. The witch walked over to her captor, quietly and slowly. She just peeked around his black hair – which, as she just noticed, had a slight curl to it – only to find his eyes closed. He was breathing peacefully but deeply. It took Felicity a moment to understand what Tom was doing exactly. _Oh, for Merlin's sake, he's asleep! _

A small smile threatened to reveal itself on Felicity's mouth, but she quickly shoved it down. With triumphant eyes, she just barely whispered in Tom's ear, "That's what you get for staying up all night just to beat me. Sweet dreams, you sadistic, psychopathic, murdering kidnapper!" And then Tom smirked.

"I heard that, Miss Tylers." Felicity's eyes widened a bit, while Tom's remained closed.

"I-I _wanted_ you to hear it." Felicity stuttered, momentarily stunned.

"Did you now?" Felicity never answered. "Get back to work." Tom went back to reading, though still not turning the page.

Felicity stood there a moment with a frown on her face. "You're not my boss."

"No, I'm your _kidnapper_, which, as you constantly agree, is far worse." The witch crossed her arms and pursed her lips out as she looked down at the Dark Lord. She rolled her eyes.

"You know, you could just go to sleep in your own room. I'm sure it'd be more _comfortable._" He looked up at her with a smirk showing clearly on his face.

"Does my comfort really worry you, Felicity?" He stood from his chair, while Felicity raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't _sleeping_. I was reading."

"Yeah, that looked like reading." They glared at each other, with Tom's characteristic smirk still plastered on his smug face.

"I don't need my eyes to read. I'm a _wizard_, Felicity. What don't you understand about that? I used a charm that allows me to sift through all the information in the book to find what I'm looking for. It is a bit time consuming, but worth it in the end." Felicity sighed. He was so exhausting.

"Forgive me, _Tom_," she spoke sarcastically, her voice dripping with venom. "I suppose Hogwarts doesn't teach you how to _cheat_ these days."

"It's not cheating; it's using the abilities fate has handed you." He looked to Felicity's left for a moment, as if scanning some far-off place. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have a guest to attend to." With that, Tom apparated, leaving a very confused Felicity alone in the library.

"Guest?" She questioned to no one, settling back down on the couch with the book she had been reading before.

* * *

><p>He was being summoned.<p>

_No, this is impossible. Impossible! He's dead. He's been dead for nineteen years. And yet, the Dark Mark has returned, along with an unquenchable pain. _

Draco Malfoy imagined Lord Voldemort pressing one long white wand into his own Dark Mark, which, as all Death Eaters were well aware, meant he was summoning his servants. And they could not ignore this call. Therefore, Draco was simply powerless when he felt the pull. Good thing he had sent the Fawcett kid to speak to Mr. Tylers. It would give him time to figure out what – or who – was causing the Dark Mark's return.

Quickly ducking his head out of his office, Malfoy checked for any other Ministry employees nearby. Seeing none, he retreated to his office, leaving a note on his door saying he had left early. Fawcett would be mad when he returned, but as he said before: "there are more impending disasters with the rest of the world." And the Dark Mark just so happened to be 'Number One.'

He'd find the Felicity girl later. After hearing about her brother, Draco doubted if she was even alive. Or maybe the whole situation had been thrown out of proportions. Perhaps she had just run away. Perhaps she had just found her life too unbearable and left. Perhaps she simply didn't tell anyone where she was going.

The pain was getting worse. Draco clenched his teeth together as he pressed his wand to his Dark Mark. And then, just like that, he was gone.

* * *

><p>He'd never seen the manor before. To be honest, he didn't even know if he was in England anymore. The house was old and of a Victorian style. Ivy grew up the sides as water marks stained the front. An iron fence enclosed the home, obviously letting visitors know they <em>weren't <em>welcome.

Draco felt the heaviness of the air as the wind picked up, his platinum blonde hair ruffled and tousled in the breeze. He stood on the outside of the fence, a giant gate looming above him. The Dark Mark still hurting, Malfoy pushed open the gate and walked through.

The place was silent. Only the wind picking up the deadened leaves could be heard, even if it was mid-Summer. Draco also noticed all the trees were bear, not a leaf on them. Clearly, whoever lived here didn't like 'life' very much. The thought only frightened him further. Lord Voldemort would live in a place like this: no life, no people, no happiness. He had to find out what was going on. The whole Wizarding World could be in danger if he didn't find out, not that he even had much of a choice. The pull was getting stronger.

Draco walked right up to the large mahogany doors, raising a hand in preparation to knock.

But as he was about to touch the door, it drew away from him, revealing a man in its place. Draco stared right into his eyes. This man was not the Voldemort he knew. He was young and handsome and _human_. The unidentified man spoke, breaking Draco's train of thought. "Ahh, Draco Malfoy. You've certainly grown. I've been expecting you." The man swung the door open even farther, motioning that Malfoy should enter. He did as he was told, if only because he was curious who this was.

The blonde wizard began to imagine the craziest explanations for what he was seeing, and feeling (as the case was for his Dark Mark). Was he the Dark Lord's son? But he didn't have any children. He'd never allow them to live. Was he the Dark Lord's servant? Someone striving to take over the Wizarding World just like Voldemort himself? Or maybe, just maybe… Could this be Voldemort himself? As Draco looked into the green depths of his irises, there was something he recognized. A sort of desire, ambition, hatred, and there, at the darkest pit was an emotion Malfoy didn't believe Voldemort could ever feel… _loneliness. _

"Who are you? And why did you summon me here using Lord Voldemort's Dark Mark?"

"I'm a bit upset, Draco. You didn't immediately recognize me. More than that, I'm far more upset at what you've become." _Recognize him? How? They'd never met. What was this arrogant prat talking about? _

"What do you mean? Who are you?" He repeated.

"Why, Malfoy. I'm your master. Lord Voldemort." No response. Draco went numb. No recognition of what the man – claiming to be Lord Voldemort! – had said. Of course, inwardly Draco was already planning, calculating, but his 'master' could hardly think that. He would still believe him to be the seventeen-year-old scared-out-of-his-wits boy he once was. But that was hardly still the case. "Surprised? You shouldn't be. If you had been any kind of follower you'd have believed I was still alive. You'd have come looking for me. You'd have never stopped carrying out my plans. But no. Instead, you gave up all I had done for you. Threw everything away as if it were some momentary gain and not an everlasting reality. You even work under Harry Potter. I'm so disappointed, Draco. But I suppose I will use your good relationship with the Potter boy to my own advantage… How is your father, Draco?"

"Dead," he replied, matter-of-factly.

"Pity. He could have been of some use yet." Draco raised an eyebrow. If this _was_ Lord Voldemort, he would have known of Lucius Malfoy's death for some time now. He would have know that, only a year after Lord Voldemort's death, Lucius was so utterly destroyed from his master's will. He would have known that Draco's father had thrown himself off a cliff just to rid himself of Lord Voldemort's grasp. They all thought he had gone crazy. _But maybe he wasn't_, Draco realized. _Maybe he was telling the truth the whole time. That Voldemort could never really die, and he was still here, watching all of us from afar. _But before Draco could come to any conclusions, one thing had to be proven.

"How do I know you're really the Dark Lord?" The man in front of him smirked, an evil glint in his eye.

"Do I really have to show you, Malfoy? I think, for your family's sake, you'll trust I am the same Voldemort who tasked you with killing the fool Dumbledore, only appearing younger and more human." The man then proceeded to recount his success with the Time Turner potion with an air of triumph and arrogance written all over his face. Still a little wary, Draco did not press the situation any further. Even if this wasn't Lord Voldemort, he would still murder Draco's family. The best plan was to simply go along with this 'Lord Voldemort' until he either knew he was truly who he said he was, or had evidence to the contrary.

"Why did you call me here, My Lord?" He humbly questioned.

"There is someone I want you to meet, dear Draco. Someone that will become your topmost priority for the rest of your miserable life."

* * *

><p>The book having sufficiently been skimmed, Felicity dropped it on the seat next to her, dust swirling from its old covers as it landed. Tom hadn't been gone for very long. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes. She wondered who the 'guest' could possibly be. One of his followers? Do they even know he's still alive?<p>

Felicity didn't have to wait long to find out though. Another five minutes had passed when the giant double doors of the Grand Library swung open, revealing Tom behind them. To his left stood a tall middle-aged man with platinum blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard.

Her eyes widened, her fists clenching together so hard that her fingernails started to dig into her skin. She knew this man. Everyone in the Auror Department did. Harry Potter's employee. Harry Potter's advisor. Harry Potter's friend. "Mr. Malfoy?" Felicity managed to choke out, even through all the anger bubbling within her. Tom smiled devilishly, knowing he had gotten to her, knowing that her Hufflepuff family blood coursed throughout her veins, knowing that loyalty was a prize she valued almost as dearly as her life.

And then, with Tom's conquering smile, Felicity burst. "How dare you! How _dare _you! Harry Potter is your friend! He trusts you with his life! And all this time, all this goddamn time, you've been helping _Lord Voldemort_?" She screamed at the top of her lungs, not caring if the pair hadn't said one word to her since they had arrived. He was a traitor! A brainless fool that had been sucked into Tom's vortex of power and fear. If she had a wand, he'd have been seriously injured by now.

"Ahh, Felicity, I believe you are already acquainted with Mr. Malfoy?" Her only reply was clenched teeth and a hardened expression. "Wonderful. Mr. Malfoy will be your personal bodyguard when I'm not around, Miss Tylers. We have to keep you safe… to keep me safe. I have little doubt Draco is right for the job… a job which happens to start now. Good day, you two." Felicity rolled her eyes at Tom's strange behavior. He was being mildly polite, obviously meaning he wanted something. Tom merely turned around and headed back out the door, leaving Felicity alone with the traitor.

The doors shut behind Tom, a loud thud issuing from the action. Draco and Felicity stared at each other, neither one moving or daring to shift their eyes. "Calm down, Felicity." Draco ordered. He was quite surprised to see her alive and well (if 'well' meant horribly emaciated and depressingly gloomy). Of course, Lord Voldemort had already explained the situation to him on their walk to the Grand Library. She was a Horcrux, and her brother's death was a 'misfortunate' accident. She was an object to be protected, and Draco was the protector. Why he trusted Draco…well, that was another matter entirely.

"Why _should_ I calm down?"

"Because I haven't been helping Lord Voldemort since we all thought he was gone for good. Because I don't want to hurt you, Felicity, anymore than you want to be here. Because _I'm on your side_." Draco's words did seem to calm her down a bit, though she was still as stiff as before. He moved closer, stopping just meters before the younger witch. "Felicity Tylers, you've caused quite a bit of trouble in the Auror Department these past few weeks."

"Have I?" She shook her head, disbelieving. "It doesn't really feel like it. I seriously doubted anyone was even looking for me." She snipped at him.

"Well, Harry Potter's gone a little mad searching for you. And don't even get me started on Scott Fawcett. The boy has gone insane trying to organize a search party for you. And wouldn't you believe who the head of the search party is?"

"You?"

"Of course. Who else?" Draco stuffed his hands in his pockets in a disinterested way. Felicity shook her head, registering Draco's previous comment.

"Wait…" Her voice lowered. "Scott's looking for me?" Her eyes softened as she frowned.

"Yes." Draco interjected. "The boy is quite determined to find you." She imagined his face, frantically trying to find her, going crazy over trying to get her back. Then, knowing that she and Scott could have never really been together, she shook her head firmly. Felicity put Scott behind her a long time ago. When she returned home, she would avoid him at all costs. _Speaking of which…_

"Hey, wait a minute. You found me! Take me back! Get me out of here if you're really are on my side!" She didn't know why the thought hadn't occurred to her before. Shouldn't that have been her first demand? _What the Merlin, Felicity… _

"I don't think that would be wise." The man offered no explanation.

"What do you mean it won't be wise? Then alert Mr. Potter and let him come for me! He destroyed Voldemort once and he can do it again!"

"Apparently, that is not the case, considering Voldemort _is still alive_." He glanced at the panicked girl, frowning at her incompetence. _Wasn't she an Auror? Didn't Potter always commend her on her level head? Doubtful…_ "Besides, even getting you home wouldn't change the fact that you're still a Horcrux. Before you can go home, you must weaken Tom to the point where he…"

"What, Malfoy? To the point where he what?" Her eyes searched his, pleading for an answer.

"Kills you." Silence. Grey met amber. Felicity swallowed hard. She looked to the floor. The beginnings of tears formed as she closed her eyes. She took a seat on the sofa, keeping her head down and rubbing her temples methodically. And then she sort of chuckled. A response that Draco raised an eyebrow at.

"I guess I always knew… In the back of my mind, I always knew. Harry had told me often enough how he got rid of Voldemort's soul." Draco sighed, sitting next to Felicity.

"He came back though. And you might too."

"We don't know that…" There was a quiet throughout the room, as if someone had just been ordered their death sentence, which of course, was entirely the case. Felicity took a deep breath and let it out. She nodded curtly and looked up, a new sort of determination in her eyes. "Alright… How should I weaken Tom enough to kill me?"

"You're a woman…it should be easy for you." Felicity let out a small laugh. _Oh Malfoy…you have no idea._

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><p><strong>AN: Did you enjoy? In the middle there was a serious case of writer's block... hope it still smoothed out. Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So... I disappeared once again. I apologize. I know it must be frustrating. And now I have to give you terrible news (well, good for me). I'm enrolled in a class next semester that will require me to write ten pages a week of my very own original novel. While this may mean inspiration to write more fanfiction, it could also mean another long absence. For this, I apologize in advance. Thank you for being patient and I hope you enjoy this installment!**

**Disclaimer: "Hey Harry, did I write or have anything to do with the creation of your wonderful tale?"  
>"Nope." Well, that settles it. <strong>

* * *

><p>Love Doesn't Exist<p>

Chapter Seven

"Let's go, Felicity." Tom waltzed into the Grand Library like he owned the place and yanked Felicity from her comfortable position at the desk. Felicity couldn't even pretend to hide her puzzlement.

"Go where?" Before Tom answered, he apparated to Felicity's bedroom, where Taffy was waiting, elf hands daintily held by her side. As soon as she saw her master, she snapped her fingers and disappeared, leaving the two alone.

"To town." Felicity noticed a dress on the bed. She believed the Muggles would describe it as 'business casual.' She turned to Tom and stared at him for a few tense moments.

"Are you _mad_?" _That's a pretty stupid question to ask the man that mercilessly destroyed thousands of lives because his_ pride _had been injured by an infant, Felicity. _"I thought you were determined to keep me in this building for the rest of eternity."

"I believe it would be better if you accompanied me to the small town below for a few necessary items. And questioning me gets you nowhere, Miss Tylers." Felicity rolled her eyes. Tom was making less sense than usual.

"Okay, why can't you just go by yourself? Better yet, why don't you send one of your 'loyal servants' to get it for you?" Tom simply raised an eyebrow with a disinterested expression plastered on his face.

"Must I explain everything to you?" The witch retaliated by raising both her eyebrows. She pursed her lips in what she hoped was an obvious answer. Tom just sighed in impatience. "Not once has the town beneath the Riddle Manor seen its master, or any of its occupants for that matter. It's an inherently superstitious and curious village, and I have received word that many of the townspeople are in a recent unrest. They either think me a vile creature that wouldn't dare show his face," Felicity smiled at the irony, "in public or a nonexistent being. Either way, they'll come knocking on my door for answers soon." The whole thing seemed a bit ridiculous to Felicity. It came completely out of nowhere. And she still didn't know why he could possibly want Felicity to go with him.

"So just go by yourself." She shrugged. "Why would you need me?" Tom walked forwards, standing so close to Felicity that their faces were almost touching.

"Because, Miss Tylers, you are going to be my ill wife. You see, we're originally from England, but you have always been so faint and sickly. The doctor ordered fresh air, so I, a wonderful husband, took you to Albania. This is, of course, the location of the family home. Thus, our little ruse will settle the superstitions and I will obtain various items for potions at the same time." The Dark Lord backed away ever so slightly.

"Sounds plausible enough." Tom's face seemed to say, "Of course it does, you insolent little girl. I'm the world's greatest dark wizard."

"Now that I've debriefed you, get dressed." And he disapparated so Felicity could change.

* * *

><p>Her arm was safely encased in the crevice of Tom's own arm as they walked through the town's cobblestone streets. The villagers all stared at the strangers with either abhorrence or amazement. Felicity could already tell she would play the part of 'sickly wife' with perfection. She looked weak from the starvation and pale from the lack of sunlight (speaking of which, she thought it felt wonderful to be back in the open air). She tried to act as if Tom was the only thing holding her up, and apparently it was working. In addition to the amazement and abhorrence, the villagers all looked at her with pity.<p>

It certainly wasn't a big town. She imagined it was a primarily farming type of village, with little income. The thatch roofs were proof enough of that. Felicity glanced up at Tom. His breath came out in a cloudy mist, reminding the witch that winter was nearing. He stared resolutely into the scene, daring anyone to challenge his presence. Of course, no one did.

Soon enough, Tom tugged Felicity into a small stone building on the left side of the cobblestone street. Very calmly, Tom whispered in Felicity's ear to keep quiet. They entered through a curtain hanging in the doorway. A sign hung above the same curtain with Albanian writing engraved upon the wood, but Felicity had no idea what it said. She could only figure that it was an apothecary of sorts.

Inside the hut, two women stood, warming themselves by a small fire in the back of the building. Tom spoke in perfect Albanian, but again, Felicity had no idea what he was saying. He either had a translator spell (damn magic) or had been around the language long enough to pick it up.

The older woman of the two turned around and walked straight up to Tom. Her expression held a mixture of wariness and excitement as she saw the charming young man. What commenced afterward was a hurried conversation in Albanian. Tom spoke first, then the woman, then Tom again – gesturing to Felicity. Tom must have said something about his apothecary needs, because the elderly woman ordered the younger one to fetch something, which she brought back bundled in brown paper.

Felicity was too busy staring at what the young storekeeper had just handed Tom to notice the old woman's gaze upon her. The Albanian smiled, her mouth wrinkling in happiness. She inched closer to Felicity and reached a hand to her stomach, patting it gently. "Such pretty face," she said in heavily accented and strained English. The blonde was surprised at the woman's touch. Tom looked on the scene with a casual determination. "When you have pretty child? Soon, yes? Must make husband happy!" Felicity's eyes widened, and Tom cleared his throat.

"Thank you, but we must focus on Mrs. Riddle's health before we can think of having children." The old woman withdrew her hand, a smile still tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Of course," She responded joyfully. "But you must visit more. And bring baby when he comes!" Tom had a pained expression on his face, but he was still as charming as ever.

"We shall. Now I'm afraid we must take our leave. My wife can't stand for too long without getting tired. We appreciate your help." Felicity smiled weakly in an attempt to look fatigued. Both women waved as Felicity and Tom exited the little hut.

Now, the silence was awkward, verging on unbearable. The woman's comments didn't seem to affect Tom in any manner. He had a stoic look on his face as he subtly walked through the town. Felicity swallowed hard. She was growing more and more aware of her present situation. Tom had ceased walking arm-in-arm with her. He currently had his arm encircling her waist, pushing her even closer to him. Her breathing picked up. The heat rose to her cheeks. Tom was playing her _husband_. Lord Voldemort, her _husband_. For Merlin's sake, Tom just promised the shopkeeper we'd visit with _our child_. This was just too strange.

Felicity too lost in worry to notice Tom stopping her. They'd approached a pub (Felicity knew this only because of the wood sign above the door. It had a picture of ale on it). He dropped his arm and whispered in her ear once again. "I'm going inside. Don't speak to _anyone_." Felicity nodded, her eyes squeezed shut from embarrassment. "And stop acting like a _child_, Mrs. Riddle." With that, he left her.

* * *

><p>Felicity stood just waiting for moments. She didn't know what to do with herself except think of the uncomfortable experience that had just occurred. And it was then, exactly then, that she heard a voice whispering in her ear. "What's a darling little girl like you doing in front of a such a scandalous place? I hope you have no plans of…<em>selling yourself<em>." The voice sent shivers up her spine and she felt twenty degrees colder. Felicity whirled around to face the man, just now noticing the accented English he spoke. He looked to be about mid-forties, with a graying beard and beady little eyes. He was dressed as other villagers were: brown burlap-looking pants and white cotton shirt covered by a fur drape. He looked like he had a special purpose for her, a faint mischievous smile evident on his face.

Felicity had been living with Tom for weeks now and she had never been as scared of the Dark Lord as she was of this man. And she couldn't move. Frozen to the spot. She wanted to scream, to call out for Tom, but the sound never escaped her lips. Her mind clouded over, and all she could do was stare into this man's black eyes. "N-no," she stuttered. "I'm w-waiting for someone." The man smiled again, this time showing yellowed teeth.

"A boyfriend perhaps? Or maybe a husband?" Felicity said nothing. "Such a shame. You're so very young to be married." He lifted a dry, cracked hand to her face and stroked it. Felicity tensed, but still could not move, or smack the hand away, or spit in his face. She could do _nothing._ "Where did this darling little girl come from?" She almost looked down, but the man's fingers pushed her chin up so she'd once again meet his eyes.

"The mansion. At the top of the hill." She just barely looked towards the general direction of the hill, but the man understood perfectly. Something dark erupted within him. His eyes gleamed with excitement and revulsion.

"The Riddle Mansion, eh?" She flinched as he leaned closer to her face. "Are you sure you're married to the master?" he asked, suspiciously. Her eyes widened. "Ah, so you're just a servant. Maybe you even provide some _entertainment _for the charming boy?" Felicity's heart pounded in her chest. _This man… he sounds as if he _knows _Tom._ "Tell me, dear girl, what is your name?"

"Jane Addams." She lied. She wasn't exactly sure where the name had come from, but she was pretty sure she'd heard her American friend say it once.

"Liar." The man smiled playfully. "It's very unbecoming of a lady to lie. What is your name?"  
>"Felicity." He began to circle her, as if she was some sort of weak prey.<p>

"That's better. Answer this, Felicity, does your master value you most?" Was she mad or was he asking, "Answer this, Felicity, did your master make you a Horcrux?" She was probably just plain mad, but for some reason, this man seemed to know more than he was letting on.

"No." She answered firmly. She was beginning to regain some of her strength. She even sounded more convincing. "If my master has any sort of emotion towards one thing, it would be news to me. In all my years of service to him, he's never show preference towards any one thing." He stopped circling and stood directly in front of her. An eyebrow was raised. The man knew there was something more to her speech, as if this girl actually understood what he was asking. She was bright. He'd be getting no answers from her now.

"I have a feeling we'll meet again, Miss Felicity. In the meantime, please accept this." She was about to condemn anything he gave her when the man leant down and planted a kiss on her hand.

And that was when Tom appeared, carrying a small box. In the same instant, the man disappeared.

Tom's eyes flashed with anger as he walked determinedly up to Felicity. Grabbing her arm before she could speak, they disapparated. Thankfully, no one was around to see it.

* * *

><p>Back at the Riddle Mansion, Tom looked angry. "I thought I told you not to <em>speak <em>to _anyone_!" He pushed her down with surprising ease. She landed on a soft couch in the Grand Library. "How could you be so _stupid_, Felicity!" His eyes were now tinted with a reddish hue as his literally shook with anger. "What did you tell him? What did you tell him about me?" _Well, he's mad at me. Angry enough to kill me? Let's find out._

"Oh, I just told him – who may or may not be a Muggle – that I was Lord Voldemort's Horcrux, and that he has to kill me with the Sword of Gryffindor or Fiendfyre or a Basilisk Fang so he can kill you. Oh! I _also _let him know that you had transformed into your younger self, that way the man could have an easier time finding you." Felicity spoke with such utter loathing and hatred that her words didn't even seem sarcastic any longer. Tom listened to everyone word before he lunged.

She really didn't see him coming. His hand was at her throat and he was lifting her. Then, somehow, he had rammed her into a bookshelf so hard that books tumbled to the floor with loud thuds. Tom's long fingers were clenching harder and harder on her neck. It was becoming more difficult to breathe. Her lungs ached for air and her head hurt with unmentionable pain. She tried to grab at his hand, but ended up flailing about and pulled more books off the shelves. Felicity, in that moment, only knew one thing. She was choking, and she was dying.

And that's when she went limp. If he was killing her, she intended to let him. Her vision went black.

* * *

><p>She half-expected to end up in King's Cross Station, as Harry had when he died by Voldemort's hand all those years ago. But she didn't. She was at her desk in the Auror Department.<p>

For a strange second, Felicity thought that perhaps the past few weeks had all been a dream. She thought maybe she'd fallen asleep and let her fear of Lord Voldemort overtake her consciousness. That wasn't the case.

There was no one around. In fact, she heard no noise throughout the entire building. _Odd._ Felicity looked everywhere in the Department. There didn't appear to be a single person roaming the halls. She sighed. Maybe she was still dead.

"Felicity…" A voice resounded in her ears. It sounded much too close to her, almost as if it was speaking from _inside_ her head.

"Felicity…" It was such a lovely voice. Though, it was angry. She wondered why it would be angry.

"Felicity…Wake up…Felicity." It was more urgent that time. It no longer felt like part of a dream; instead, it was a voice outside of her dream, calling to her from some familiar abyss. She started shaking uncontrollably, as if someone else was controlling her. The witch closed her eyes, waiting for the feeling to go away.

When she opened her eyes once more, Tom was standing there, angry, but less so than before. She was sprawled out on the marble flooring of the library. Her throat felt dry and unused. Tom leaned closer to her. "What did you tell him?" _Him? Who's 'him?'_ It was disorienting trying to remember. "Lower your Occlumency shields." Felicity squinted at the blinding light and shook her head calmly. "_Do it now._" He spoke in Parseltongue this time, the words slithering into her mind with definite clarity.

"No," she just barely whispered. Felicity found it hard to speak.

"Felicity, I'll find out one way or another. This way is a lot less painful for you." They looked into each other's eyes for a few silent moments. That green. It reminded her of Harry's eyes, except darker. Hardened by pain, yearning for power, desperate for answers. And for some stupid reason, she trusted him. Maybe it was just the lack of oxygen in her brain or maybe she had simply forgotten who Tom really was, but she trusted him.

To be quite frank, Felicity hadn't remembered she'd _had_ her Occlumency shields up. She'd been trained to keep them even without her wand, knowing that Aurors would often be stripped of the magical wood. Of course, it was weaker without her wand, but only an extremely powerful Legilimens could have disrupted some of the shields (which, now that Felicity thought about it, would explain why Tom appeared when she asked for him that night). Now she had to remember how to break some shields while keeping others intact.

Felicity imagined her memories as a brick wall. Behind each brick was a different memory. She sifted through them all and found the one of the man in the village, and then she knocked the brick out of the wall. That's when she felt it. Some unimaginable force invading her mind. The power was so great that it almost knocked the whole wall down, but with a little perseverance, she kept it strong. The pain was horrible. Felicity thought choking to death was bad, but having one's mind invaded was a pain so vast she yelped in agony. She knew Tom had finished watching her memory by now, but s thought he might take advantage of the situation. He was thinking the exact same thing.

Her mind was opened, if he could just break one more lock, the door would fall apart. Who knows what else other information her mind would betray? He slowly chipped away at her shield. Small memories flooded out. The first time she rode a broomstick. A conversation with her father about Auror training. An interesting, albeit it, useless, confrontation with a seventh year (_'She knocked him across the room as a second year…impressive. But considering my power courses through her, it's hardly surprising._) A recent memory slipped. She was heavily distracted…by Tom's shirt. He smirked; knowing he affected her that way could prove useful one day.

Then Felicity smartened up. She knew he was prying around in her memories so she layered the protection. It was no use now; she'd discovered him. However, he did see the memory he cared about most…the man in the village. He smirked and spoke with a mixture of anger and satisfaction. "Congratulations, Felicity. You just survived a private audience with Grindelwald."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So? How was it? Poor Felicity and that awkward insinuation. Ah well, she'll survive (or will she...?)**


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